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It’s a warm summer night, and it’s a good one. Their little party has been going on for a few hours, but no one is ready to go home just yet. There’s music playing in the background, something lo-fi meant to cushion conversations and keep them stitched together rather than to be listened to. Empty takeout boxes lie discarded on the kitchen island. Laughter rings from the living room where everyone is gathered around the low coffee table. Some sit on the couch, others on the floor, and then there’s Hux, who is standing ramrod straight while nursing a glass of wine, because of course he is. Even like that, he seems relaxed. Everyone’s been wearing soft smiles since they arrived.
Poe is trying to explain a card game. He’s being funny about it, and the rising melody of his voice is constantly interrupted by Phasma demanding he clarify something, and sniggers from the rest.
Hand-painted decorations hang from the otherwise empty walls of Rey’s living room. A big, sparkly sign reads ‘Congratulations on your new job, Finn!’. Rose must have been the artist in charge, judging by the amount of pink glitter still clinging to her hair and cheeks.
The light is warm, and everyone has the pleasant feeling of a full belly and an evening celebrating one of their own.
Ben notes all of this from the doorway where he stopped on his way back from the bathroom, content to go unseen for a few minutes and bask in the peace and affection conjured by the scene before him. It takes him a moment to notice the one thing missing: Rey is nowhere to be seen.
Quietly, Ben retreats from his spot to look in the kitchen. Not there. He hesitates at the bottom of the stairs before climbing them, and when he reaches the landing, he calls her name so softly he’s not sure she’d hear if she were there. He approaches what he knows is Rey’s bedroom and knocks on the door. Even though it’s slightly ajar, he doesn’t dare peek inside. That would be too much—for Rey or for him, he’s not sure. There’s no answer anyway.
Back downstairs, Ben’s about to give up on his search and join the others when he remembers the little wooden bench Rey got recently. He had seen it earlier, resting against a side wall of the little house, nestled between the fragrant thyme bushes she favors. He recalls her saying she had been enjoying sitting there in the evenings.
Indeed, he goes outside and as soon as he turns the corner he can see a small figure on said bench, backlit by the golden light coming from the window above. He makes sure to step on the gravel to announce his presence. She’s hugging her knees to her chest, chin resting on top of them, and doesn’t turn to look his way.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey,” he lowers his voice to match hers. “Can I sit here?” He asks, pointing to the empty space on her left.
She gives a minute nod, so he folds his body to fit on the bench without invading her personal space. It takes some effort, but he manages to sit without touching her by leaning on the small armrest.
They say nothing for a while, listening to the breeze rustling the bushes, the odd car driving down the street, the neighbor’s kids complaining about having to go to bed. It’s nice. Domestic. Their friends must have started the card game, because Rose can be heard accusing Kaydel of cheating.
Eventually, Rey sighs, and when Ben glances her way he sees she has turned her head and is now looking at him.
“Hey,” she whispers again.
“Hey,” he echoes. Her cheeks are glistening. It takes him a few seconds of silent staring to realize she’s crying. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” A pause. Ben’s past self would have demanded she continue and not waste his time. Present day Ben, the one who’s chest suddenly feels tight with an unnamed feeling, stays silent and waits for Rey to continue. “I just…” She gestures vaguely with her hand, a small movement pointing to the house behind them. “It was a bit overwhelming.”
As far as house parties go, this one must be the most low-key they’ve ever had: no silly drinking games, no loud music, no awkward plus-ones. But he gets it. The warmth, the ease, they can be too much when you’re not used to them. That’s why he had stepped back for a bit after all. On good days, that feeling of ‘home’ is still shocking. On bad ones—and he’s glad to say he doesn’t get those nearly as much as he used to—it’s outright alien, and his skin crawls with how unworthy of it he feels.
It occurs to Ben that Rey keeps that feeling alive for all of them. She makes sure they stay together. She’s everyone’s number one cheerleader in their adventures, the one who celebrates all their birthdays and successes. Whenever someone is going through a rough spot, she’s there to listen. For the good and the bad, everyone in their little group knows they can count on Rey. The fact that her home is always open to them is a reflection of what she has become for those who love her: a refuge.
It occurs to him that the first thing he ever thought when Poe introduced them is that she seemed to be as lonely as himself. Maybe that’s why she tries so hard, why they’ve always gravitated toward each other. Maybe she’s scared. Maybe she feels unworthy too .
Ben reckons that perhaps no one has yet tried to make Rey see just how loved she is. Just how worthy.
Suddenly, he’s very glad he’s the one that noticed Rey missing and came to look for her.
“Come here,” he says, resting his arm on the back of the bench to make space for her.
It takes Rey a while to move, enough that Ben thinks she will not do it and that he should go back inside, but eventually she lowers her knees and scoots toward him. He tucks her under his arm and lets her burrow against his chest.
She’s crying again. Something, that unnamed feeling inside him, makes Ben kiss her hair. It’s not as scary as he thought it would be.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he tells her, because it’s true. He’ll make sure of it.